Be Careful What You Wish For
by SupernaturalKris
Summary: When a foe from the past returns, Dean must come to terms with some childhood memories.  Can he ever look his brother in the eye again?  Find out and be careful what you wish for... It might come true.
1. Chapter 1

**Be Careful What You Wish For…**

**Part One**

The office was a-buzz with activity but Emma could not be distracted from her nervous fidgeting. She paced back and forth in front of the closed door and wrung her resume in her sweaty hands.

"Emma, you've got this. You're experienced, you're educated, you're the right person for the job," her friend tried to calm her down.

Emma glanced at the boy across the hall. He was also nervous, also pacing, but not allowing himself to commiserate with the enemy. "Yeah, well he's a man," was Emma's simple yet hopeless reply.

"So what if your boss is a notorious chauvinist? Taking a freshly minted grad student over an employee with 15 years experience? Unheard of!" her friend's assurance was hard to ignore.

"I guess you're right," Emma conceded, perking up. "I am more qualified!"

At that moment, her boss and some over-eager assistants emerged in a hurried bustle from the office. Her boss stiffened at the sight of Emma and called Lucas, the young grad student, over to where he was standing. "I have come to a decision," was his ominous beginning, "Lucas will assume the position of Chief of Finance," he continued in a hurried tone.

Emma's face fell as Lucas's lit up with unexpected glee. The boss avoided Emma's defeated gaze and retreated back into his office, not one to relish uncomfortable silences.

As the over-eager assistants took the triumphant Lucas to see his new office, Emma entered and approached her boss's desk.

He tried to hide his nervous glance. "Ya know, it was just so close there at the end. You really are a wonderful employee," he tried to diffuse this HR complaint with flattery, "but you're just not cut out for higher management," he finished with a sexist tone.

"_I wish you were dead!_"Emma thought hard as the anger bottled inside threatened to engulf her completely. The look of surprise on her face was evident as the letter opener on his desk flew up and slit her boss's throat cleanly across the vein.

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"So why do we have to get new ID cards?" Sam pestered Dean once again as he emerged from the copy shop.

"Because, people keep figuring out these classic rock references," Dean stated matter-of-factly, referencing the time he used the drummer from Led Zeppelin. "Mullet rock is coming back into style, Sammy," Dean gloated, remembering Sam's quip about his cassette tapes.

"Yeah, I dunno about that," Sam disagreed as he accepted the ID card from Dean's outstretched hand. "L. Michael Lane?" Sam read incredulously. "What does the L stand for, genius?" Sam asked already knowing his brother's smart-ass reply.

"Why Lois of course," Dean replied with a broad grin.

"And what's yours say?" Sam demanded as he wrenched the card from Dean's closed fist hidden behind his back. "C. Thomas Kent? Dean, how is this any more inconspicuous?" Sam groaned. Dean couldn't break his habit of using pop culture references in his chosen aliases. "And why did I have to be the girl?"

"Dude, are you seriously asking that?" Dean laughed as Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean ushered Sam over to the outdoor café table and ordered a drink. As Sam opened his laptop and stared at its contents with a concentrated gaze, Dean asked, "So what's the deal on this case?"

"There have been a string of arrests in the area for heinous crimes. One man killed a cashier at a grocery store for making him wait too long for customer service. Another woman murdered her boss after he promoted a man instead of her. There have also been several cases where the body is still missing but the motive is there," Sam rattled off with a factual tone. "None of the possible murder weapons have prints on them, all the evidence is circumstantial. The only connection the police can find to all of these crimes is that everyone is claiming temporary insanity" Sam continued to stare at the computer with a quizzical look, trying to solve the mystery behind this confusing case.

"As for the murders I'd say demonic possession, mind control?" Dean offered, "But as for the missing persons… any clues from the interrogations?" Dean asked, prompting Sam to pull up the classified records on his computer.

"All it says is that each suspect refuses to talk," Sam replied simply.

"A sure sign they're guilty," Dean judged quickly. "Sam, what makes you think this is our kind of case?"

"Because none of the suspects_ could_ talk," Sam revealed, "their voice vanished with the disappearance of their victims."

Dean drew in a slow breath. "I guess we better go visit those suspects."

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Sam and Dean showed up at the county jail in suits and ties fit for public defenders.

Dean waltzed in with an air of importance as Sam flashed his ID at the nearest guard.

"L. Michael Lane?" the guard read from Sam's newly minted ID, "What's your first name, Lois?" the guard teased as Sam gave him a weak smile and moved on down the hall.

Sam continued giving Dean the dirtiest of looks until the door opened to the visiting room. Dean's satisfied laughter immediately desisted.

"We're here to see a Mr. Bryan Cassidy. We're his public defenders," Dean rattled off, seasoned in lying about his identity. The guard stepped aside and allowed the boys to enter before he left and closed the door behind him.

Bryan was sitting nervously at the desk, hands clasped, twirling his thumbs around one another. He motioned for Sam and Dean to sit down.

"Bryan, let's get right to it," Dean began, "what happened the night your wife went missing?" Despite being forewarned by Sam about Bryan's muteness, Dean was surprised to see Bryan pull out a legal pad of paper and begin writing his description down. He directed a skeptical glance towards Sam and then picked up the tablet as Bryan slid it towards them.

After skimming it, Dean thrust it into Sam's hand. "We had a fight that night. She was nagging me about not helping her with the chores and I was getting ready to watch the game with a couple of friends on our new big screen," Sam read aloud, "I knew she was going to be pissed all night long so I asked her to leave. She left the room and never came back."

"So why did the police arrest you? Why do they think this is anything more than a missing person's case?" Dean mused.

Bryan snatched back the pad and began writing quickly, uncomfortably aware he was taking up their time. Sam took the pad again and read, "Because I called 911 shortly after. I got up during half-time to get some snacks and I was ready to apologize. I looked for her everywhere. Her keys, purse, and license were all still there. Only a pile of shimmering dust and the locket I had given her were left on the floor where I saw her last." Bryan broke down. He was wracked with silent sobs and he dried his tears quickly with his sleeve. Sam sensed Bryan wasn't telling them everything.

"Bryan?" Sam began, "Is there anything else about that night you're not telling us? Anything you regret?" Sam hazarded a guess as to what the man was feeling.

Bryan looked up at Sam through tear stained eyes. A look of severe guilt passed across his face and he gingerly took the pen and began writing slowly, but surely.

"_I wished for her to disappear_," it read simply.

Sam stared at it without any sort of recognition, but Dean immediately spoke up, "Thank you for your time Mr. Cassidy. We'll be in touch."

It seemed as though Dean was hurrying Sam out into the hallway and Sam was confused.

"What's up with you?" Sam asked, bewildered at his brother's new tack in approaching this case. "A minute ago you didn't even believe the guy was mute."

"Yeah, well new facts have come to light," was Dean's distracted response. He walked briskly down the hallway and out into the sunshine. Sam, even with his long legs, struggled to keep up on the way to the Impala. Something was wrong and Dean wasn't owning up.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Be Careful What You Wish For…**

**Part Two**

"Dean? What do you know?" Sam demanded. It was obvious his brother was hiding something from him.

"Sam…" Dean began in a tired tone, "I know what we're dealing with."

"You do?" Sam looked taken-aback but trusted his brother. "Well, what is it then?" Dean was noticeably hesitant to reveal his sources. "Dean, if this can save lives you have to tell me," was Sam's insistent demand.

"Alright!" Dean conceded, slightly annoyed at his brother's lack of patience. "So we were on this hunt. You couldn't have been more then seven. You had been whining and Dad was pissed," Dean began as his memory took him back to those woods.

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"Well, daddy's a meanie!" Sam piped up as his eleven year old brother steered him away from the forest.

"You were whining and now you've got us thrown out of the hunt," Dean reprimanded vehemently. "The one hunt that dad thought was safe enough for us, you ruined! Dad said we couldn't make any noise and you had to keep on complaining about your gun!"

"It was heavy!" Sam maintained in his insistent seven-year-old manner as Dean lifted the burden from his brother's tiny hands.

"Sammy, I don't care right now! Dad's pissed at both of us and now we just have to sit here and wait!" Dean barked, annoyed. Sam had never seen his brother so fed up with him before, but he was in an argumentative mood.

"If you hadn't given me the big gun, this would have never happened!" Sam retorted, shifting blame onto anyone but his guilty self.

Dean wheeled on his brother, "You're blaming ME? I'm the one who saved you from getting spanked right then and there!" Dean was outraged that his brother would be so ungrateful.

"I never want to hunt again!" was Sam's familiar tirade. "You and daddy never give me a break!" Sam whined and Dean was done.

"_I wish you would just disappear!_" was Dean's secret desire. And in just that second, his puppy-dog-eyed brother vanished into thin air.

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Dean was frantic. His brother was gone and he'd caused this to happen. "_No, no_," he reassured himself, "_wishing is for babies! There must have been an invisible creature that snatched him._ " Dean vowed to find that son of a bitch and tear him from limb to limb himself.

"Dean, Sam? Front and center!" Dad's familiar command stung Dean's ears as he reached a new level of panic. What would his dad think of this new development?

Dean opened the Impala's front door slowly, so it creaked ominously in the dark. John cocked an eyebrow, knowing something was up, but figuring one of the boys had gotten into some harmless mischief. He clapped his hands, warming up for the inevitable spanking.

Dean's face was contorted with guilt and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. John was torn between a look of horror and a look of sympathy and the indecision in his face was only making Dean feel worse.

"Where's Sammy?" John began slowly.

"I don--don't know," was Dean's sniffled response.

"YOU DON'T KNOW?" John bellowed, quickly jumping to the worst of conclusions. Dean would never scare John like that without reason, he knew better.

"He--he diss-ap-ap-peared," Dean stammered out, bracing himself for the mother of all backlashes.

"You were supposed to keep an eye on him, Dean!" His dad was trying with all his might to keep his emotions in check. He didn't know whether to scoop the sobbing boy up in his arms or to beat the tar out of him for disobeying.

"We gotta go look for him!" Dean pleaded urgently.

John gave his oldest son one last stern look and they set off in the darkness together.

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John and Dean searched the forest, calling out Sam's name. "Sammy?" John tried for the hundredth time. "SAMMY?"

"Sammy, we're not mad," Dean tried a gentler tack. "Just give us a sign you're here." Dean was frantic but at least his dad was here giving him orders. A sense of purpose helped him focus his emotions elsewhere.

The forest was completely silent, and Dean begrudgingly trudged back to the car when John admitted they'd have to try something else to get Sammy back.

Dean opened the door gingerly, still slightly afraid that the invisible creature was lurking in the corners of the Impala and it would pop out at any moment and take the only other person that meant the world to him: dad.

John tossed his duffle in the back seat and his eye flickered on something shimmering in the darkness. He made a double take, making sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. He extended his fingers and gently brushed some of the ashen substance onto his palm. Dean was looking at him uneasily, wondering if he was going to get in even more trouble for leaving gun powder on the Impala's upholstery. But as John held the substance outstretched in his right hand and looked at Dean expectantly, Dean could tell this was something more important.

"Dean, when you say Sam disappeared…what exactly do you mean?" John began in a measured tone.

"Well…" Dean wasn't sure he should tell dad what he wished. He didn't want the man to think he was a baby or something.

"Whatever it is, no matter how crazy it sounds, you've got to tell me, buddy," John encouraged in an overly-sweet tone.

Dean took the bait. "He was whining and wouldn't stop complaining so I sort of… wished he would disappear," Dean drew out his explanation. When his Dad gave a look of alarming recognition, Dean added, "He vanished right in front of my eyes! I think an invisible being got him, dad," Dean offered, trying to help further along the most important case of all.

"That was no invisible being, son, that there was a fairy."

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"A fairy? You think a fairy did all this?" Sam repeated incredulously, not trying to hide the amused grin on his face.

"Yeah, dude, I know a fairy did this," was Dean's perturbed reply, not at all amused with Sam's disbelief. "A sylph to be exact. Fairy makes it sound like a pansy creature and this thing is no pansy," Dean added with a shudder.

"Huh," was all Sam could muster as he realized Dean was dead serious. "What tipped you off?" Sam asked curiously.

"The fairy dust," Dean replied simply. Not helping his brother's burden of confusion he added, "Oh, and the fairy stroke that all the suspects display; that's when they can't talk because a sylph did their bidding," Dean clarified. He was relishing being the knowledgeable one on a case. Sam may have his books and his little lap top computer, but Dean had the experience and the instinct.

"Well then how come you could talk?" Sam asked reasonably.

"My necklace," Dean replied simply. Sam had always know there was some protective quality to Dean's ever-present trinket but had never fully understood its significance. His brother did not wish to elaborate.

"Right, right," Sam went along and pretended to understand. "Well, I guess we better research these suckers."

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"Okay, it says here that fairies are a race of Supernatural beings who have magic powers," Sam began as he sunk into the oversized lounge chair situated in the corner of their newest motel room. "Though usually benevolent in modern children's stories, the fairies of the past were powerful and sometimes dangerous beings."

"We aren't dealing with Tinkerbell I guess," Dean quipped.

"Definitely not," Sam agreed, continuing to read, "It says here, sylphs are known to lavish gifts upon mortals, but the consequences are dire. I suppose in this case, the gifts were their deepest, darkest desires," Sam mused aloud.

"Looks like this thing has an evil fairy godmother complex," Dean laughed at his own joke. "So how do we kill these things?"

"Well," Sam began, dragging out the word while skimming the page for an answer to Dean's sensible question, "in ancient Greek mythology, they were associated with the element of air, meaning they are masters of the sky. They're also described as being mortal but lacking a soul so…" Sam broke off, hoping Dean's experience with the creatures would finish the sentence for him.

"So…?" Dean prompted, not seeming to recall any helpful information from his past.

"So, you don't remember how you and dad saved me?" Sam asked, cocking his eyebrow at Dean's lack of long term memory.

"Well, I think I might've blocked it out," Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"You blocked it out? I was the one who disappeared!" Sam reminded Dean, incredulous that his brother would be so flippant.

"What else does it say?" Dean shoved his brother aside and attempted to scroll down the page using the touch pad. He was not very technologically inclined. He clicked on another link and instantly a photo of a sylph trapped in a jar appeared on the screen.

"I remember," was Dean's humble beginning.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Be Careful What You Wish For…**

**Part Three**

John scooped the remaining fairy dust carefully into a pristine silver tin. He rummaged in his duffle as Dean looked on with wonder. He pulled out Sam's favorite army man; the painted red one he had found in some kid's yard back in Houston. He grabbed a can of lighter fluid and a box of matches and got out of the car.

"Whatcha doing, dad?" Dean asked, momentarily forgetting his worry as curiosity eagerly replaced it.

"Summoning this evil son of a bitch," John said simply.

He placed Sam's army man in with the dust and shook it vigorously. He then delicately laid the tin upon the ground and doused the contents with lighter fluid. Dean wrinkled his nose at the smell, also knowing Sam would not be a happy camper if his prized possession was melted down in order to summon a fairy. John tossed a match into the tin.

Green flames blazed from its contents and a beam of red light shot vertically upwards, seemingly towards the heavens. A tiny winged creature burst forth and Dean jumped back, clinging to his dad in surprise. John let a little smile curl at the corner of his mouth before he got back to business.

"Why have you summoned me?" the tiny sprite squeaked in a high voice. When John didn't answer the sylph hazarded, "You've lost one haven't you?" It noticed Dean's face contorted in rage and eyed him suspiciously.

"Now Dean!" John barked and Dean immediately lunged for the creature.

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"And then what happened?" Sam mimicked his best high pitched child voice.

Dean did not look amused, "I captured the damn thing. We had to make sure we knew what we were dealing with."

"I dunno Dean, this all sounds kind of weird, even for us," Sam was uneasy about his brother's unfailing belief in these magical creatures.

"Sam, stop looking at me like I'm crazy," Dean demanded forcefully, "I've seen these creatures and they're nothing to laugh about." Dean was dead serious, but Sam could not seem to shake the image of Tinkerbell from his head.

"Ok, ok, so what do we do next?" Sam decided to let Dean take the lead; it would at least give Dean the impression that Sam believed him.

"We find that fairy dust," Dean determinedly strode towards the door and headed for the Impala.

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Dean expertly picked the lock on the door with "crime scene" tape crisscrossed across it. Sam stood keeping lookout, nervously fingering through his hair but doing his best to look inconspicuous. As Dean heard the satisfying click, he rushed inward, pulling his brother with him.

They searched around the darkened house. If they turned on any lights they would surely be detected. Their flashlights scanned the darkness while they fumbled around trying not to knock their shins into any sharp corners.

"God damn it!" Dean wasn't so lucky; the kitchen counter corner caught him off guard. He kneeled, rubbing his side and swearing under his breath. Sam chuckled a bit as he continued down the hallway. As Dean attempted to push himself back up, his hand landed right smack dab in a pile of shimmery ash. "Found it!" Dean called gruffly from the floor.

Sam rushed to his assistance, helping his older brother up with two hands. Dean shown the flashlight beam on it and Sam started at it in disbelief. It wasn't just fine ground sand; it had diamond-quality shine. He became mesmerized by the dancing light and as Dean shook him back to reality he began to believe in this case.

Dean rummaged in the same duffle bag his dad had 16 years earlier. He pulled out an old, weathered tin and shoveled in the dust. As a finishing touch he gingerly laid the locket Bryan had told them about on top and set it ablaze.

The light show unfolded just as Dean remembered. The sylph, showing signs of age with slightly bent wings and a more pronounced stoop, appeared and hovered in front of Dean. "You again," the sylph croaked warningly as he tried to dart out of the way but Dean's reflexes were too quick. "I didn't see that coming at all," was his sarcastic surrender.

Dean knew what he had to do. Sam struck a match and handed it to Dean. With one last spiteful look, Dean dropped it in the jar. The sylph's wings immediately stopped beating as the wind was removed from beneath them and he vanished as the oxygen diminished within the confines of his cage.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Be Careful What You Wish For…**

**Part Four**

"How do you kill something that _is_ the air?" Sam wondered aloud as he scaled the next cliff face.

"You trap 'em and you burn those suckers. Remember, like the egg in the bottle trick?" Dean explained, recalling a Bill Nye episode he'd seen once.

"But how many will there be? We can't trap them all," Sam was too sensible for his own good.

"We'll figure something out," was Dean's distracted reply.

Dean's hand slipped from the rock face for only a moment, just long enough for Sam's body to shoot adrenaline to his heart. But Dean had grabbed back on before Sam could say a word.

"Why are we scaling a mountain, anyways?" Sam inquired in a breathless tone, physically and newly emotionally exhausted.

"The sylphs live in caverns at the top of the highest peaks in the area," Dean stated matter-of-factly.

"Well I guess it's good this isn't Alaska, then," was Sam's relieved reply, recalling a geography lesson on the highest peaks in North America.

"Yeah," Dean agreed without comprehending the reference. "We're here," Dean whispered as he lifted himself onto the ledge. He helped pull Sam up while keeping an eye out for roaming sylphs. He touched his gun instinctively, even though he knew it would do them no good in this situation.

Sam and Dean peeked inside their cavernous surroundings. Dean fought the urge to yell some obscenity, just to hear the echo. Sam understood the grin on Dean's face and rolled his eyes habitually.

Sam was the first to notice the shadows on the wall, dancing in the light. "Dean, over there," Sam pointed and led the way. They crept along, stooped to half their height in the tunnel leading to the inner cave. Dean's biker boots clunked along and Sam turned around to shush him. "Don't shush me!" Dean ordered, struggling to step more lightly.

They came to the first shadow and beheld the sight of a young woman about twenty-eight, tied to the ground with hundreds of tiny little ropes.

"Mrs. Cassidy?" Dean tried. She nodded her head but could not respond because something was stuffed in her mouth.

Dean and Sam knelt beside her and started working on the ropes. Dean pulled the cloth from her mouth. "There are others!" she croaked, new to using her voice again. Dean cocked his head in the direction of the continuing tunnel to let Sam know they would split up.

He continued on his hands and knees, all too aware of the noise his boots made. He came into another inner chamber and immediately stopped, momentarily regressed to his childhood. There was a little boy tied in the corner. Dean saw Sammy but his heart knew it wasn't really him. The boy's green eyes grew wide with fear and he tried against the ropes to squirm at the sight of Dean, apparently having caught a glimpse of the gun.

"I'm not going to hurt you, little guy," was Dean's soothing greeting. The boy quieted but skepticism continued to cloud his eyes as he let Dean untie him. Dean could tell the boy was scared, so he tried to calm him down. "How'd you get here?" he asked after he pulled the cloth from the six-year-old's mouth.

"I dunno," was his worried response. "I was tagging along at my brother's football game, and all of the sudden I was here," was his recount. "Was I abducted by aliens?" the boy asked with wide eyes. He had all of Sammy's inquisitiveness; he even looked a little like him, too. As he freed himself from the last of the ropes, he shook his mop of brown hair and shimmery silver dust fell in mass quantities. He smiled wide, dimples appearing on each cheek, and hugged Dean in thanks for saving him. Dean fell backwards a little in surprise.

"Okay, kid, we need to get out of here, do you know if there are any others?" Dean asked, using his all-business voice.

"Yeah, there're some more people in there," he pointed with a small finger.

"Ok, you go that way," Dean gave directions, "and find another man. He'll be big enough to fill up the whole tunnel and goofy looking," Dean added, refusing to pass up an opportunity to tease his brother.

Dean watched the boy scamper off to make sure he followed his orders. Little Sammy was safe, and that was all that mattered.

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Dean finished untying the last hostages, as the sylphs circled ominously above. They were almost see-through, hovering between invisibility and slight opaqueness. Luckily, they were busy with some sort of ritual and had not yet noticed Dean's presence. Sam unfolded himself from the tunnel and into the inner chamber where his legs could stretch once again.

"Take these people to safety," Dean ordered and coaxed the captives into the tunnel. Sam huffed in irritation, having relished being in an enclosure more than three feet tall but followed Dean's command without verbal complaint.

Dean turned to scan his surroundings for a boulder to plug up the only exit from the chamber. He immediately fell backwards as a winged creature darted in front of his face. The sylphs had detected his presence and they were wondering where their sacrificial victims had gone.

"Shit," was all that Dean could get out as he wracked his brain for a quicker solution to his problem. He was immediately pounced upon.

The sylphs flew down in torrents and pelted Dean with their tiny bodies. Although they could barely be seen with the naked eye, Dean felt like BB gun pellets were covering his body. He swatted wildly at them and called for help, "SAM!"

Dean was alarmed when he felt his body go cold and could not summon the energy to swat at the sylphs any longer. His eyes grew wide as he realized what was happening; his deepest, darkest desire was coming true. John materialized five feet in front of him. The closer John came, the weaker Dean felt; he was dying to save his father. It had been Dean's wish since he found out his dad had made a deal with the devil to save him. Tears welled in his eyes as he laid on the ground, almost resigned to his fate. "Sam," Dean whispered in one last effort to save himself, even though the sylphs knew that wasn't what he truly wanted.

Sam's determined face resurfaced from the tunnel and he pulled Dean inside just before he opened an umbrella. Sam was alarmed to see Dean so pale and weak. The whap, whap, whap, of the sylphs hitting the umbrella in vain was satisfying but Dean knew that would not hold them for long. "Sam, caulk gun!" Dean yelled as Sam flung their new and improved weaponry in his direction.

Dean pulled the trigger without hesitation and plastered the umbrella to the tunnel's opening, but not before Sam threw a burning bottle of alcohol into the main chamber.

Sam and Dean waited with bated breath as the creatures threatening to puncture the umbrella slowly desisted and eerie screams filled their ears. The sylphs were dying.

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"My brother and I were rock climbing and we heard screams from above. We kept going until we found them," Sam lied expertly.

"Well, we're sure glad you did," was the forest ranger's grateful thanks.

Sam nodded and walked over to join his brother. Dean was staring at the young boy getting patched up by the EMTs. "Ya know that's not me. I'm right here," Sam tried to break his brother's determined gaze. He waved a hand in front of Dean's face, only to get it slapped away.

Dean moved away, stubbornly followed by Sam. "What's with you man? We just saved all those people, you should be happy," Sam was incredulous that his brother was acting so moody; he would usually take this opportunity to gloat about how he kicked whatever creature's ass they were facing.

"Sam, I could have saved dad. He was there," Dean stifled the urge to let a tear fall down his face. "If we hadn't killed those things, would dad be living right now?"

"It wouldn't be natural, Dean," was all Sam could say, even though he was choked up at the thought of his father. "Besides, he would be pissed. He died for _you_. If you sacrificed yourself, he'd go to hell and back just to rip you a new one for the stunt you pulled."

Dean considered this for a moment, but refused to let himself off the hook, "But Sam, all those people in there, they were put there by their loved ones," Dean lamented. "It was all an accident, only a stupid little wish that they pray they could take back." Sam sensed Dean was talking about more than just the suspects. "You see that boy there?" Dean asked, looking at Sam intently, "That was you, man. I wished you away and you didn't deserve it. I didn't mean it," was Dean's long overdue apology. He had wanted to say it for all these years, but he couldn't bring himself to speak of it again.

"Dean, I know you didn't mean it. Hell, I would have wished me away too, I sounded like a real pain in the ass," Sam attempted humor. A smile threatened to curl at Dean's lips.

"Yeah, you were a whiny, little brat," Dean admitted, feeling better now that he had some closure from Sam.

"Ya know," Sam began after a moment of satisfied silence, "I think this would qualify as a chick flick moment." Sam's grin reached ear to ear as he caught his brother red handed in an vulnerable state.

Dean looked horrified and irreverent at the same time, "You wish, bitch."

"Jerk," was Sam's expected retort.

They returned to the Impala and kicked up rocks as they sped off in the direction of another case.

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